


The Cycle

by septiplier500



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 14:00:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8716609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septiplier500/pseuds/septiplier500
Summary: To avoid the pain, Mark starts avoiding the source.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was asked for something angsty!
> 
> [Rebloggable version on Tumblr](http://septiplier500.tumblr.com/post/153795719347/the-cycle).

It’s fucking stupid, the way that it starts. Or rather, the way that it _stops_.

Mark likes to be busy but not like _this_ , swamped with collabs and side projects on top of his own admittedly haphazard daily uploads. He doesn’t mean to slack off on friends, but he’s absolutely buried in emails and his voicemail is constantly clogged, and business can’t wait the way that small talk can. So he sleeps less and texts less and stops logging into skype entirely.

By the time he’s gotten out from under everything, it’s been six months since he last talked to Jack besides a passing tweet. The realization is like a knife in the gut as he stares at the timestamps on Jack’s last two texts, the friendly and unassuming messages having gathered invisible digital dust for two full season changes and a missed birthday.

It had been so _easy_ to let work get in the way. Videos were a challenge with concrete steps and goals, something he could take on and know pretty much exactly how to succeed at, even if the success was just posting something that vaguely resembled his initial idea. Talking to Jack didn’t have the same rigid definition of start and finish. Because Mark didn’t have a goal in mind with Jack; he couldn’t even pin Jack down to ‘maintain friendship’, like he bullet listed so many other people in his life. Jack was an anomaly among his relationships.

Mark knew he was in love with Jack. He’d known it for a few years now, the truth of it bleeding into everything he did with the plucky little Irishman. It was like a raw nerve, painful and unseen, always agitated by doing the most basic of Youtuber friend shit: the collabs, the panels, the formerly days-long conversation chains through text. The phone calls dancing on the edge of awkward hours so neither of them were too wildly inconvenienced by their differing timezones.

But his career had flared up, and he’d gotten overwhelmed, and… it was so easy to kill himself slowly with the workload, instead of killing himself slowly with Jack.  

Mark scrolls back up through their texts a dozen times as autumn crawls into winter. He still doesn’t answer.

He goes back to Cincinnati to see friends and throw another charity livestream. He’d flaked out on Bob and Wade too throughout the year, but besides gentle chastising, it isn’t an issue that anyone feels the need to bring up. It’s Christmas, they’re all together, and besides, everyone knows how busy Mark’s been. His passion is part of why everyone loves him.

Knowing that they’ll inevitably skype with Jack at some point during the stream brings back the sharp ache in his chest that Mark had almost managed to forget had ever existed at all. It’s like a breathlessness that doesn’t cease no matter how hard he works to even out his breathing behind a feigned smile.

When the laptop is brought out, Mark considers sneaking a sip from one of his friends’ drinks, pining for the bitter burn of alcohol to cover all his hurts. But he just sits on the couch and makes jokes at Wade’s expense, and doesn’t give in to the urge to bolt when Jack picks up and greets them all joyously.

“Hi, Jack,” Mark adds to the chorus, smoothing his voice into an exaggeratedly sultry croon for comedic effect. It hides the tremble, mostly.

“ _Mark_!” Jack shouts, laughing delightedly, “Hey, buddy! Haven’t heard from you in _ages_.”

Mark’s smile is less agonized than it could be, and Mark counts that as a major victory. “Yeah, it’s been a busy couple of months. It’s great to see you, though.”

“You should give me a call later,” Jack says, and the screen is tilted just enough that Mark can see the unbridled happiness in Jack’s smile, as vibrant as it had been the first time they’d touched – hugged – in person. Not a single ounce of care lost, even after months of being reduced to an unanswered bundle of text in Mark’s phone.

Mark rubs his ribs to hide how badly he wants to clutch his chest, and forces out a laugh that passes as easy-going. “Yeah, of course,” he promises, knowing it’s not a lie this time. They move on with the stream, everyone hamming it up for the fans, and Mark fights off the apprehensive dread he feels knowing he’ll have to open his own wounds sometime later.

They’re in the middle of playing a game a few hours later when his phone vibrates. He leaves it alone until he’s tapping out for a piss break, at which point he has a look at his messages in the hall.

_Stream ends in 8 hours right? I’ll be awake if you want to make good on your promise dude :)_

It’s so fucking stupid, the way it starts again.

But it’s so easy to just let it happen.

**Author's Note:**

> If you _liked_ this fanfiction, punch that kudos button in the face! ;) 
> 
> And as always, I will see you... on [Tumblr](http://septiplier500.tumblr.com/).


End file.
